Not Your Fault
by Tobiasven
Summary: What actually happened at the end of Madhouse when Robin “wouldn’t even open the door.” Slashy connotations and Dark!Robin MH compliant


Spoiler Alert: MADHOUSE SPOILERS : Spoiler Alert

Title: Not Your Fault  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my soul and even my cat has taken that.  
Summery: What actually happened at the end of Madhouse when Robin "wouldn't even open the door." (Cal didn't really care for stabbity death of his friend.)

The door finally opened to my insistent pounding. Robin looked up at me irked as hell. I could be annoying too, if I put my mind to it. At least I did that well. I pushed my way inside before the puck could even open his mouth. Inside the room was drenched in darkness, only a lamp by the door gave a soft glow. No partner, man nor woman, was on the couch, in the bed, or in the shower. For a man judged by his sexual prowess his apartment was eerily silent. It was thoroughly depressing.

Robin slammed the door. The lack of lovers the least of my worries and the abundance of temper the foremost. "What the hell are you doing here, Caliban?"

I did my best 'cool kid' shrug. "Looking after your ugly ass. You haven't been around in days and Ish said you were better," I said.

Robin bristled but didn't respond to the ugly comment, a testament to how bad he felt. "Why would you even want me around? I told you what happened."

I leaned my hip against the stand by the door. I did my best to act indifferent. He was tense enough without reading my anxiety. "It's not like they sacrificed their children to you or maybe they did. I don't really care."

"Don't care? A woman died because I loved her. No, I didn't even love her. I was just her…her god."

I nodded. "Lessons learned and all that."

He jerked his head up eyeing me critically. "You sound like your beloved brother."

"He gave me a few pointers."

Robin moved about the room wringing his hands in agitation. "You don't understand. I'm not a fighter-"

"I've seen you fight, Loman," I argued.

"Shut up!" Robin shouted. I saw something of Old Hob in his eyes, so I did as I was told. "I'm a survivor. I'm also a predator. Not your usual fuzzy, scaly, blood-sucking slimy kind but the other kind. The quiet kind that comes at you with soft eyes and false promises."

Robin had sidled closer to me his body language definitely predatory. I kept a tight hold of my emotions. My brain begged to fight or run but I held myself in place. He was intimidating me on purpose the little bastard. "Well, you're no praying mantis. Again, I'm not worried."

Robin chuckled. It was a dark sound I never heard before. "Ah, Caliban. You never were a god."

He approached me with that odd dark grin. Even the Auphe in me took a rain check as I was forced back against a wall. A picture frame banged the back of my head. His hands roamed over my chest making me flinch sporadically.

"You weren't there when we were kings. That woman wasn't the only incident. She was one of a hundred cases of bad judgment or just plain temper. As for child sacrifices, oh, they do scream but I prefer the virgin ones."

I looked away in revulsion. I didn't know if Robin was telling the truth or making a point. I was pretty sure the truth was worse than what he was telling anyway. "Leaves me out," I said.

Robin raised a hand and touched my face. "Nothing ever leaves you out."

I shuddered involuntarily. I was starting to suspect this was a very bad idea. Robin licked his lips. Goblin green eyes stared into mine. Robin leaned into me. A hard lean body pressed against mine. I was feeling a little more of Robin than I ever wanted to.

Robin's breath hit my neck making my heart thunder in my chest. I felt a warm wetness on my neck. A tongue, it was just a lick, a taste that nearly sent me running. Robin getting creepy friendly I could take. But I had the thought of teeth sinking into flesh, another chunk of me being eaten. I couldn't do it.

Robin suddenly flinched. Hands gripped my shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. He leaned his head against my chest. "Azazel take me," he whispered. Robin let go shoving me hard into the wall. He stumbled back toward the darkness of his living room. "Homicidal peri," he muttered.

I needed to say something. I had to tell him I wasn't mad. Well, not that mad. "Robin?"

"Get out, Caliban," he said in a dead voice.

I didn't need to be told twice. I left Robin to his misery for the moment. I needed to regroup. I wasn't giving up, not on my only real friend in twenty years, but I had to think. Robin was a tough guy to love even in his best moods. If that was his way of pushing people away, he was damn good at it, but I was stubborn.


End file.
